


(darlin, you're never prepared for) failure

by azraeil



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Gen, in which i can't write fight scenes, wow what am i even--
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-12
Updated: 2013-02-12
Packaged: 2017-11-29 02:07:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/681501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azraeil/pseuds/azraeil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jake unknowingly meets his father, receives a new scar and fails to both complete a mission and save his mother in the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(darlin, you're never prepared for) failure

Jake shuffled from foot to foot as he looked up at the building in front of him. There was less security than he was told there might be, and he wondered if maybe he would be ambushed as soon as he stepped inside. Well, he wasn’t going to risk it. Pulling out his recently acquired nine-oh-nine, he made his way towards the old house.

There wasn’t anyone else around, and it just made the whole thing seem eerier. But he wasn’t going to back away so quickly, especially considering this would give him the money he needed to further his mothers treatment, so he just soldiered on, twisting the handle on the door.

And, of course it wouldn’t open up.

With a sigh, he moved back slightly before rushing forward and slamming his shoulder against the door, near enough that it fell open under his weight.

From what he could see inside already, the place was in disarray. The floorboards were sticking out everywhere, wallpaper peeling from the edged and even had some rips here and there. The lights above looked like they would fall down at any moment, and all of the stairs had already fallen apart - there was no getting up to the second floor, unless you could jump high enough (which he doubted). This place had to be a safety hazard, and the perfect place to meet and exchange the case from one pair of hands to another.

As soon as he stepped in the house, a man walked around the corner, and a gun was pointing at his head in no time. The stranger held his hands up in a placating manner, showing he was unarmed. That didn’t make Jake drop the gun, however.

“You the one they sent?” The stranger asked in Spanish, and Jake nodded his head jerkily, giving a small ‘sí’ in reply. The man turned back the way he came, waving his hand in a gesture to follow. And, although he didn’t like that much, Jake had orders, and he followed alone behind him into another room, floorboards creaking underneath his shoes, wearily glancing around the place.

In the other room, there was a table where a silver case sat. It would have looked almost inconspicuous, if the style of it hadn’t stood out so much from any other case. There was what looked like the top of an umbrella on its front, a mix of red and white patterns making up the colours. His nose wrinkled slightly, but he didn’t protest any further and held out a hand to take it, only to be stopped by the man.

“Guard this case with your life, mercenary. There are powerful people looking for it, people that would not hesitate to kill you should they find out you now have it in your possession.”

With another jerky nod, Jake pushed the hand away and picked up the case, weighing it in his hand for a moment. It wasn’t too heavy - it was light enough that it shouldn’t cause any trouble - and he tightened his grip on it.

“Hopefully I won’t see you again soon,” The mercenary said, heading towards the door to leave the house. He heard a sigh behind him, and chuckled quietly as he shut the door to the house (oops. If he had known someone was in there, he would have just— yeah, bashed it down anyway).

Once he stepped out, he took the man’s words to heart and kept his gun out, his grip on it tighter than he would usually have it and his finger resting lightly on the trigger. Hopefully no one would jump out, even if he would be able to react accordingly. It was just annoying to have people interfering so close to the end of the job.

“So they have a _child_ doing their dirty work now, hm?” The voice came from above, and Jake looked up to one of the sturdier buildings in the area to see a man standing there, arms across his chest and looking _holier-than-thou_ , even from the distance they were from one another. He was blond, wore sunglasses despite the fact there was no sun to protect his eyes from, and a black trench coat.

In Jake’s eyes, he looked a little bit (read: a lot) ridiculous.

“I’m not a child, old man,” Jake sneered, lips curling up in obvious, fast dislike. “So if ya don’t mind, go back to your costume party and let me finish my job.” And perhaps it wasn’t a good idea to antagonise this man, especially since he actually looked dangerous. But he wasn’t going to let some guy interfere with this.

“I don’t think so,” The blond said, dropping down from the top of the building and landing— jesus, he was actually okay when he landed. To be fair, the building wasn’t that tall, but it was still god damn impressive. “You’re holding something I want, child.” He gestured a gloved hand towards the case, a simple gesture, but one that made Jake hold it in his grip tighter.

“Hell no,” Jake knew he would regret this, but he still carried on to say, “You want it? You come and get it. But I’m not just gonna give it up at your say-so.”

The other stepped forward, and they fought.

Jake ran out of bullets quickly, all of them dodged with speed a human shouldn’t have, and had to resort to hand-to-hand sooner than he had hoped. As good as he was at it, his stamina couldn’t hold him up forever, and he began missing attacks that should have been obvious and allowed himself to be hit by them instead of blocking. A few of his own hits managed to get through, but they didn’t do much damage to the man and instead just spurred him on further.

The case had been chucked to the side soon into the fray, as soon as his nine-oh-nine had been discarded to the side. It laid on its side, watching with non-existent eyes as the teenager and the man fought.

It ended soon enough, and a flash of silver caught Jake’s eye, swiping up and digging into his cheek and causing him to back down, only to be kicked away.

“You’re weak, child,” The man sneered, brushing off his coat and stepping over to the case. “Arrogance will be your downfall.”

“Speak for yourself,” Jake spat, blood dripping from his cheek and the corner of his mouth and from his forehead, down into his eyes. He blinked rapidly, but made no move to try and retrieve the case once more. He knew when he had been defeated, when it was hopeless. “The higher you are, the further your fall’s gonna be.”

“That is where we are different. I won’t be falling.”

And, although Jake doubted it, all he could do was fall back, one arm thrown over his eyes, breathing deeply. He had failed and now had nothing to take home to his mother.

——-

‘ _You failed the job we sent you out on, Mister Muller. I’m afraid we can’t pay you as you didn’t bring us the case._ ’

“I know that,” He grumbled, clicking the phone shut. It was worth a shot anyway. Shoving the small, second-hand device into his pocket, he stepped into the threshold of his home, the one place where he felt the safest despite the fact it was where he was most vulnerable.

The place was almost empty, apart from one person sitting on the couch, hands folded in their lap and looking downcast. “Miss J?” He choked out, surprised to see his teacher sitting there. Although he didn’t go to class much - if not at all - she was still one of the few people he liked, even if it was only slightly.

“Jake,” She said, looking up and standing at the same time, and her eyes were red. “You’re home..” Though she didn’t sound pleased about it.

“Yeah.. What’s goin’ on? Why’re you here? Is mama okay?” He looked over to her, and then the bedroom door his mother should be sleeping behind. Miss J looked like she would cry again, mouth twisting and pinching together as though she was trying to stop herself from bursting into painful sobs.

“I’m sorry, Jake..”

And what was all he needed to hear, because she had nothing else to apologise for. The only thing that could possibly cause this was something he didn’t want to think about, and as he stormed into his mothers room, movement frantic as he looked her over..

Well, seeing it in front of him meant he couldn’t deny it, and he could feel his throat close up and eyes sting. God, she was actually dead. And Jake hadn’t been there for her in her last moments - instead he had been somewhere else, getting beaten up by an old man he didn’t even know.

“Fuck..” He fell down next to the bed, on his knees, taking one of her already cold hands into his own gloved ones, pressing his forehead against the top of them. He hadn’t even been able to say goodbye properly.

_’Jake, darling, you know you don’t have to do this for me. I’ll be fine—’  
’No, mama. I’ll be back soon. Don’t you worry about me and just focus on gettin’ better, okay? I’ll see you soon.’_

So maybe he wouldn’t see her soon. At the thought, he felt a sob rip through him harshly, one he had been trying to hold back.

God damnit.  
——-

(Later, as he was cleaning up his mother’s room, he would find an old photo. It hadn’t been written on, but it was old and frayed and torn, and in it, his mother was looking at a man with so much love and devotion that he knew it could only be one person. And he recognised the man as the one who he had fought, who had beaten him so easily. The one who was, apparently, his father.

That just made his defeat seem even worse.)

**Author's Note:**

> Fight scenes are the bane of my literary existence. It's so bad that I kind of just skimmed over the fight, so I apologise..


End file.
